


Recalled to Life

by ariel2me



Series: Drabble/Ficlet Collection [20]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 21:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8863237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariel2me/pseuds/ariel2me
Summary: A collection of drabbles and ficlets about Alyssa Velaryon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Alyssa Velaryon/Aenys Targaryen**

"Why Rhaena? What's wrong with Rhaenys? What's wrong with my mother's name?" Aenys asks, sulking.

Alyssa touches her husband's arm, gently. "There is nothing wrong with your mother's name. Nothing at all. It is a great name befitting a great woman. But -"

"She was the best woman who ever lived. The best!" insists the young man whose mother died when he was only three.

"She certainly is," Alyssa agrees, about this woman she has never met, to placate her husband. "But I think perhaps it will be better to name our daughter, our firstborn, after both your mothers. To honor Queen Visenya as well as the late Queen Rhaenys. It will -"

"Visenya is only my aunt, not my mother," Aenys interrupts.

"Your stepmother, then."

"When Maegor has a daughter of his own, he can name her after his mother. Why should _I_ have to do it?"

_Because your stepmother is staring at our daughter as if she would like to devour her whole. Because her son, eleven though he only is, already prides himself on besting you in every form of manly arts, except the siring of children. Because we have to pretend an outward deference and a show of the greatest respect to the queen, the only queen who still lives. Because your mother is no longer alive to champion your cause, and our children's cause. Because we have to be careful, so very careful._

She could not say these things to her husband, however. It will only distress him, confuse him, bring about his terrible headache and his gripping belly-ache, and cause him to dither and waver endlessly about the right course of action to take. Instead, Alyssa tries a different tack to convince him.

"Will it not distress your father greatly, to have another Rhaenys in the family? Even the mention of your mother's name often causes him the greatest melancholy. He still mourns her deeply and feels the lost as if it had occurred only the day before."

Aenys frowns, considering this.

Alyssa's hand moves from stroking his arm to caressing his cheek. "If you were to die before me ... if you were gone from my side, I would not wish for another kin to bear your name. You should be the only one. My only Aenys."

He smiles, shyly, like a little boy offered an embrace. Whenever Alyssa is straining to be patient with him, or struggling with the wish that her husband is not so ... Aenys-like, she reminds herself of this smile, of this sweet boy she tells herself she must protect like she would have protected her younger brothers, even though she and her husband are both of the same age. 

"You are right," he finally says. "Rhaena is a good name for our daughter."

 

* * *

 

 

**Alyssa Velaryon & Argella Durrandon**

The Lord of Storm’s End dithered and wavered about the right course to take, when Alyssa Velaryon and her two children arrived in Storm’s End seeking refuge and his protection. He feared the wrath of King Maegor. He feared the swing of Blackfyre taking his head. He feared the coming of dragons breathing fire over Storm’s End and the stormlands. This, from the son of the woman who once declared to Alyssa’s good-mother Queen Rhaenys that she was welcomed to take the castle if only to rule over bones and blood and ashes, for Argella Durrandon and the defenders of the castle were willing die to the last man and woman to protect it.

 _It’s a pity the son does not seem to share the mother’s boldness_ , Alyssa thought.  

“This is not our fight,” Argella declared, eyes narrowed, as if she had read Alyssa’s thought. “Why should we risk anything for the fight between dragons?”

 _Your late husband was half a dragon himself, if the rumor is to be believed._ If only Orys Baratheon was still alive. _That_ Lord of Storm’s End would not have hesitated, would have called his banners to fight Maegor the moment he usurped the throne.

“Why not seek refuge in Driftmark, Your Grace, with the Velaryons? With your own people?” Davos Baratheon asked, querulously _._

Alyssa suppressed an impatient sigh. He knew full well why not. Driftmark was too close to Dragonstone, and furthermore Lord Velaryon served still as Maegor’s master of ships. Her own people had deserted her. This was no time for impatience, though. Or for pride. She was desperate. For her children’s sake, she had to put pride aside. She would beg, beseech and plead; she would cajole, coax and flatter; and she would put a smile on her face or tears on her cheek while she did it, depending on what was required of the situation.

“Why come to Storm’s End? Why come to us?” Argella asked the question her son had only been hinting at. Davos winced. “Mother,” he murmured softly under his breath.

“Your father was renowned for his leal service to my good-father, and your own brother Ser Raymont died honorably protecting my husband’s life, my lord. Where else should I put my trust, if not in the Baratheons? Who else would be most deserving of it?”

It was the mother who replied, not the son, and her voice was steelier than ever, angrier than ever. “Then don’t you think the Baratheons have done enough for the Targaryens? Tell me, why should we involve ourselves in the quarrels between Targaryens? Why should another drop of Baratheon blood be spilled in defense of another Targaryen?”

Alyssa directed her reply to the mother this time, not the son. “It will not be forgotten, my lady. When my son is king, the loyal services rendered to us by House Baratheon will not be forgotten.”

“I have no granddaughter to be wed to your son and be made queen. I have a grandson, though he is perhaps too old for your little daughter. But then that is a moot point, is it not, since a Targaryen only deigns to wed another Targaryen, or a Velaryon as a last resort if a sibling is not available. Is that not the sacred Targaryen tradition?”

“It does not have to be so, my lady,” Alyssa replied, pretending that she had not noticed the mocking tone in which the question had been posed. “Other arrangements could be made.”

Argella scoffed, giving Alyssa a withering look. “Do you take me for a fishwife haggling for a prize?”

She had offended this old woman. This woman who used to be queen; a _ruling_ queen, not a consort, if only for too short a time. Her grip on power was still strong, if her son’s deferential manner and his worshipful gaze towards her was any indication. To convince the son, Alyssa suspected she had to convince the mother first.  

“Maegor ordered the cruel torture and murder of my son Viserys to punish me for escaping from Dragonstone. Do you want a man such as that as your king, my lady?”

“I wish for no Targaryen as my king, in truth, but –“

Robar interrupted, making his voice heard for the first time since Alyssa’s arrival. “Grandmother, remember your promise.”

“- but as my grandson is so fond of reminding me, that sort of talk is treason.” She turned to her son. Mother and son locked gaze for a long while, as if in silent communion. Alyssa held her breath.

“You and your children are welcomed to stay in Storm’s End, Your Grace,” Davos finally said.

“Under your protection?”

“Yes, under his protection,” Argella replied, impatiently. “My son will not hand you to the enemy, not after he has given you his word.”

“And my son’s claim to the throne?”

“Your son is a mere boy of ten. If you wish to wage war for his right to sit the Iron Throne, make sure it is not a futile war. That means you will have to wait,” Argella Durrandon declared.

 

* * *

 

 

**Alyssa Velaryon/Robar Baratheon**

“I remind you of your mother.”

“Not _that_ again. You look nothing like my late mother.”

“I remind you of your grandmother.” The indomitable Argella Durrandon, still surviving almost fifty years after the Conquest that made her a lady instead of a queen, her eyes blazing suspicion, watching her beloved grandson never far from the side of the Queen Regent fourteen years his senior.  

Robar laughs. “It is true, I _did_ propose to her once. I challenged her husband to single combat for her hand in marriage. I was a boy of six at the time, mind you. Grandmother said she has neither the time nor the patience to learn the ways of a new husband. So Grandfather and I agreed to a truce instead. We shook hands and polished off a whole pie between us.”

Oh he could be charming, Robar Baratheon, when he puts his mind to it. Alyssa refuses to be coaxed into a smile. “She _knows_ ,” Alyssa says. “Your grandmother knows. About us.”

“She knows almost everything. Very little gets by her.”

“She knows, and she does not approve.” Though, Alyssa could not tell whether it is her age or her Targaryen connection that proves to be her biggest flaw in Argella Durrandon’s eyes.

“She loves me, and she will make her peace with it. I am certain of that,” Robar says, full of the arrogant confidence of youth.

 _You are too young,_ Alyssa thinks, though he is almost nine-and-twenty. Too young for her three-and-forty. “I already had a husband who needed a mother to coddle him more than he needed a wife,” she says. “I have neither the time nor the patience for another like him.”

“The late King Aenys was born the same year as you were.”

“Maturity is more than just about age.”  

“Well, there you go,” Robar says, beaming with satisfaction. “You have made my point for me.” Then, frowning, he asks, “Do you think of him still?”

“Aenys? Sometimes.”

“Do you think of him with affection?”

With compassion. Or is it really pity? “I think he could not help being who he was.”

She had been stronger than Aenys, more determined. But she had not been strong enough for the both of them. If only she had been as strong as Visenya. As determined. As … ruthless?

No, not that. Not the last one.

There are those who condemn Alyssa for ruthlessness comparable to Visenya and Maegor, as if there is truly no difference between consciously choosing to harm another, and being forced to make terrible choices in impossible circumstances.

_She was the woman who escaped from her enemy and caused her son to be tortured in retaliation. She was the heartless mother who did not come to claim her son’s body, who left him to rot in the courtyard of the Red Keep._

What do they know of her anguish? Of the ghosts she lives with, still, to this day, to this hour, to this moment? Should she have abandoned Jaehaerys and Alysanne to suffer the same fate as Viserys? Would that have made her a less cold and heartless mother in the eyes of her condemners?  

You choose what seems to be the least terrible of all the terrible choices at the time, and you live with the consequences. You live with the consequences, you live with your guilt and your regret, and you force yourself to take the next step. And the next. And the ones after that, all the while knowing that the weight is yours to carry and yours alone, because you are the only one strong enough to carry it.

And isn’t that part of Robar’s attraction for her, that he is strong enough in his own right? That he is not Aenys grasping for her coattails, always needing to be reassured, to be placated, always _needing_ , never sharing. This man, this younger man who wishes to wed her; he speaks his mind, he _knows_ his own mind, he could be _trusted_ to share the weight with her, as he had done so in the four years in Storm’s End she spent furiously working and planning to ensure the safety of her children, as he continues to do so now while they are sharing the rule of the realm until her son comes of age.  

But that is part of his danger, too. What if she is tempted? What if she is tempted, after all the years of constant struggling, to give in, to say, “There, now you can be strong for the both of us. I yield.”

She could not abide that. She could not abide to be the Aenys in this new marriage, if there _is_ to be a new marriage.

“Just because I admire some of the traits you share with my grandmother does not mean it is my grandmother I truly want to wed and bed,” Robar grumbles

“I know.”

“The why do you fear this? Why do you fear _us_?”

She tells him why. And in the telling, in the act of sharing that weight of uncertainty with him, she manages to assuage some of her doubts, if not all. She had not been tempted to yield during the worst years of her life after all. She had forced herself to take the next step. And the next. And all the ones after that, until she is where is now.

You choose, and you live with the consequences. That is the only kind of hope she could still believe in.

 

* * *

 

 

**Alyssa Velaryon & Rhaena Targaryen**

When this new babe stirred in her womb, what Alyssa remembered most was how it felt the first time a babe stirred in her womb, eight-and-twenty years ago.

“Are you praying for a son?” asked her firstborn, the woman who had once been that babe eight-and-twenty years ago.

“I’m praying for a healthy child.”

“Lord Baratheon must be praying for a son. After all, a son would make so many things easier.”

 _I have brothers, and they have plenty of sons between them_ , Robar had insisted, when Alyssa protested that she was too old to be his wife, too old to provide the childless Lord of Storm’s End with an heir.  

When her babe kicked, what Alyssa remembered most was Rhaena’s face the first time her twins kicked. “Mother. Oh, Mother,” Rhaena said, wonder, fear and exultation flitting across her face, one by one.

On their grandmother’s insistence, Rhaena’s twins were carefully marked with red and black string respectively, never to be taken off their wrists, to denote the order of birth. “There could be a question of succession later,” Alyssa said, “and we must be clear on who is the elder girl.”

“That will not be an issue. We’ll have plenty of sons later,” Aegon had said complacently, kissing Rhaena’s brow.

Aegon did not live long enough to father any son.

_I tried, Rhaena. I tried and I failed. It was difficult to rally people to fight to put a little girl on the throne. And it became impossible after Maegor named Aerea his heir. How could we fight a rebellion against Maegor in the name of the child Maegor already claimed as his heir? Even if it was a lie, even if it was only his dirty trick, it was still a powerful lie._

She had to choose. She chose the possible over the impossible. She chose the path most likely to save them all, Rhaena and her twin daughters included.

Yet she was still haunted by the thought of Rhaena’s unspoken condemnation. _You chose your son over your daughter and your granddaughters, Mother_.

“I chose too,” Rhaena said. She had supported her brother’s proclamation to sit the Iron Throne. “I chose my daughters’ safety over Aerea’s birthright.”

Alyssa thanked the gods Rhaena never had to choose which child would live or die. Alyssa had to choose. She chose the children she could save over the one she could not.

Viserys’ screams and cries haunted her still. _You chose Jaehaerys and Alysanne over me, Mother._

“That was never your choice, Mother. That was never a choice at all. That was the monster and his cruel malice.”

“Tell me what he did to you, Rhaena.” They had never truly spoken of it, of Rhaena’s time as one of Maegor’s Black Brides.

“He didn’t break me. He tried his best, but he failed. You taught me to be strong, Mother. You taught me to endure, to survive.”

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

"I have decided to wed Lord Robar," Alyssa announces.

Jaehaerys looks thunderstruck, stunned into silence. Alysanne does not. "Is he making you marry him, Mother?" she asks, looking fierce, as if ready to do battle to defend her mother.

Alyssa frowns, though deep down she is touched. " _Making_ me? Whatever do you mean? Honestly, Alysanne. Who do you take him for? The second coming of Maegor?"

Jaehaerys begins, hesitantly, "What Alysanne means, Mother -"

"Alysanne can speak for herself, thank you very much," Alysanne interrupts. "What I mean, Mother ... well, did Lord Robar extract a promise from you to marry him as a condition for him agreeing to support Jaehaerys' claim to the throne?"

"Was this another price you had to pay, Mother, to put me in the Iron Throne?" Jaehaerys asks, looking troubled.

"The terrible thing is," Alyssa confides to Robar later, "for a moment, I was tempted to say nothing, to imply that they were right, to leave them with the impression that this was the reason. Tempted to let my children believe that I am marrying out of duty. Far better for them to believe that, I thought, than to know the truth, that -"

"That you are marrying me out of love and desire?" Robar says, sidling closer to her.

She pushes him away, playfully. "Who said anything about desire?"

"But I am certain that in the end, you did not stay silent. You did not leave Jaehaerys and Alysanne with that false impression."

"How could you be so certain?"

"Because I know _you_ ," Robar replies.

"Do you mean because I would not wish to leave with children with a false and unjust impression of _you_? To lead them to believe that you are the sort of man who would extract such a promise from a desperate woman, from a desperate mother?"

"Well, there is that too, of course. But more importantly, because you would not want Jaehaerys to feel guilty, to believe that the throne he is currently occupying has been paid for with his mother's unwanted marriage, with her misery and unhappiness."

She rests her head on his shoulder. "That is all true. But gods be good, Robar, you could not imagine how strange and embarrassing it was, to confess to my children about matters of the heart. Alysanne took it in her stride, but I do not think Jaehaerys will be able to look me in the eye again. Or you, for that matter. And there is still Rhaena to tell."

Robar takes her hands, both her hands. "You said we must wait until after Jaehaerys' sixteenth nameday and you are no longer the Queen Regent. Jaehaerys will be sixteen in a month. How soon after that can we marry?"

"A year should do it, I think. Otherwise it may cause too much talk, rumors and suspicions."

"A year? A full year?"

"My lord, you have waited this long. Surely one more year would not matter too much?"

Robar groans. "I did not mind the wait, when it was for the purpose of ensuring that Jaehaerys is secure on his throne. But now a day feels like a year, and a year -"

"Half a year, then. Would half a year do?"

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Alyssa Velaryon, Jocelyn Baratheon & Alyssa Targaryen**

They ran around the castle in matching clothes, these two little girls, one dark-haired and one fair-haired, holding hands and keeping up a constant chatter. They played hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle, even roped Boremund into playing monsters-and-maiden with them. "You will have to be the maiden," they told him, "since there are two of us and only one of you."

Jocelyn wept, burying her face in her mother's arm, when Lyssa finally left Storm's End to return to King's Landing. Later, Jocelyn would ask her mother, "Why isn't my name Alyssa too?"

Smiling, her mother replied, "It would be too confusing, would it not, to have three Alyssa?"

Shaking her head, Jocelyn said, "You're _Mother_ , and Lyssa is _Lyssa_ , and I can be _Alys_. It's not confusing at all."

"But Jocelyn is such a beautiful name. Don't you like it?"

"Am I named after anyone, like Lyssa is named after you?"

"No, you are not named after anyone. Your father and I just like the sound of Jocelyn."

"I am six, and Lyssa is six too. But I am your daughter and Lyssa is your granddaughter."

"That's true."

"Why did you wait so long? Why didn't you have me earlier?"

Laughing, Alyssa replied, "I was waiting for your father to come along."

"Boremund said Lyssa should call him Uncle Boremund and me Aunt Jocelyn. But I don't want Lyssa to call me Aunt Jocelyn."

"What do you want Lyssa to call you?"

"I like it best when Lyssa calls me _Twinnie_."

"Twinnie?"

"Sometimes we pretend that we are really twins. Boremund said we can't possible be twins because we don't look anything alike, not like Aerea and Rhalla. But Lyssa said there's a cook in the Red Keep who has a pair of twin boys who don't look anything alike. One of the boys has curly red hair and the other one has straight brown hair."

"That's right. Twins don't always have to look the same."

"Mother, can Lyssa marry Boremund so she can come and live in Storm's End, and we will never have to be parted, forever and ever?"

"Or you could marry Aemon and go live in King's Landing."

"But Aemon is such a baby!"

"He is five, hardly a baby."

"He acts like a baby. _Lyssa, where are you going? Lyssa, when are you going to come home? I am going to cry now because Lyssa likes playing with Jocelyn more than with me._ "

"He misses his sister. If Boremund went away, you would miss him too."

"But it's not the same. Aemon still has Baelon and Daella if Lyssa went away. Mother, will I ever have a little brother or a little sister?"

"No, sweetling. But you could think of Baelon and Daella as your little brother and little sister?"

"Aemon too?"

"Well now, he is not so little, is he?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Alyssa Velaryon, Aenys Targaryen & Robar Baratheon**

Robar was five, the first time he proposed marriage to Alyssa. That had been his year for proposing marriages. Not long before the Prince of Dragonstone, his lady wife and their two children arrived in Storm's End for a visit, Robar had proposed to his grandmother, extolling his own virtues compared to the lady's current husband.

Robar's grandsire had taken the boy's antic with amusement. "We'll have a pie-eating contest, to help your grandmother decide which man is more deserving of her hand," Orys declared. They polished off two peach pies between them, grandsire and grandson, and later Argella regretfully broke the news to her grandson that Lord Orys was the clear victor, but she was certain that Robar would make a great husband to a more deserving lady one day.

The Prince of Dragonstone looked far less amused, when Lord Orys' litle grandson dropped down on one knee and presented Alyssa with flowers. Robar's father quickly tried to pull the boy away, apologizing profusely. "He is a silly little boy. It is only a silly game he has been playing, and unfortunately ..." here Davos Baratheon paused, flicking his gaze towards his mother and father before laughing nervously and adding in a lower voice, "unfortunately, his grandparents have been encouraging him in it."

Aenys was not truly angry or displeased, Alyssa knew. The cold look on his face was a product of uncertainty, not anger or displeasure. He truly did not know how to react to this little boy and his boyish antic. But Alyssa saw that the look of Aenys' face, combined with the fact that he was not saying anything in reply to Davos' apology, was being taken by others around them as a sign of royal displeasure.

Finally, on Alyssa's discreet prodding, Aenys smiled and said, "Oh, it is a _charming_ little game! I wish I had played it myself when I was a boy."

The little boy who had resisted being pulled away by his father and was still down on one knee looked severely offended. "It is _not_ a game," he declared solemnly. Aenys laughed nervously, turning towards Alyssa for help.

Alyssa bent down and accepted the flowers from Robar. "I will accept your gift with pleasure, but I am afraid I cannot accept your hand in marriage, Lord Robar, for I am already wed in the eyes of gods and men."

The boy giggled. "I am not a lord. My grandfather is."

"You will be, someday."

  


 


	5. Chapter 5

Alyssa had the sword in her hand, wrapped in sackcloth. _Dark Sister._ What an apt name for a sword wielded by - 

“Is she really dead? Is the bad queen really dead?” Alysanne asked.

Alyssa nodded in affirmation. “Come quickly, children. We must leave. We must leave _now._ ”

“But where we will we go, Mother?” Jaehaerys fretted, tugging at his mother's sleeve.

_Think, Alyssa. Think!_

_Driftmark._ Her home. Her home as a girl. No, her brother Daemon, her _wretched_ and craven brother Daemon served as Maegor's master of ships and admiral of the king's fleets still. He would sooner sell her out than risk Maegor's wrath. They would not be safe in Driftmark.

Oh how she had railed at him! “You do not deserve our grandsire's name. He died in loyal service to the first Aegon, but you would not lift a finger to put your own nephew on the throne, to put Aegon the Second the rightful king on the throne.”

“I do not wish to preside over the destruction of our House, sister. Maegor is too strong. Your husband has made your son's claim weak, with his endless follies and blunders as king. Blame _him_ for the predicament your Aegon is in, not me.”

What use was there in blaming the dead? And her son, her eldest boy, he was dead too, defeated in battle. And Rhaena, Rhaena and her twins, Alyssa had not received any news of them since Aegon's death.

 _They are alive! Alive and hiding somewhere._ She _had_ to believe this, if she was not to go mad with grief and fury.

 _I will find them,_ Alyssa vowed. And her second boy Viserys, she had to rescue him from Maegor's clutches. But the first step is _this_ , escaping from this castle. She could not be of any use to any of her children if she was imprisoned in Dragonstone. Her steps must not falter. 

Jaehaerys' steps faltered. “What if we are caught, Mother? The bad queen is dead, but her men are still swarming the castle. I will not be able to protect you and Alysanne, if we are caught. I'm not yet old enough, or strong enough.”

He looked close to tears, her youngest son. Alyssa knelt, holding his arms firmly in her grasp. “We will not be caught, if we are quick. We must have faith, Jaehaerys.” Then, turning to her daughter, Alyssa said, “Hold your brother's hand, Alysanne. Don't let go, no matter what.”


	6. Chapter 6

_No!_

Her scream was soundless.

It would be the height of folly, Alyssa had firmly and sincerely believed, for Maegor to kill Viserys. It was in Maegor's own interest to keep Visery alive. As long as he had Viserys in his grasp, he could point to the young man should Alyssa try to raise men to put Jaehaerys on the throne. “I have his older brother. How could Jaehaerys' claim be better than his older brother?” Maegor could thunder.

She would find a way. A way to rescue her son from the clutches of his monstrous uncle. There were some in the Red Keep - very few, admittedly - loyal still to the late King Aenys, she believed. And now that she was finally free from captivity and imprisonment herself, she could put a plan in motion. But before her plan could mature -

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no._

Her son, her poor son. Her Viserys; her bright, funny, clever boy, quick with his words, quicker still with his smile.

Murdered by a fool and a monster, who thought Alyssa would be such a fool to put her son at risk by divulging her plan to flee Dragonstone and where she was headed to him.

_Damn you! Damn you to seven hells, Maegor._

Or had _she_ been the fool, Alyssa feared, expecting Maegor to behave with rational self-interest in mind? Was Maegor so far gone in his madness that he could not recognize what was in his own interest?

She held on to Jaehaerys and Alysanne, clutching them tightly. _I cannot go. I must not go._ If she went, if she went to claim Viserys' body, she would be imprisoned again, perhaps even killed. And what would happen to Jaehaerys and Alysanne then?

_But how can I abandon him? How can I abandon my son?_

She _had_ to, for the sake of her children who still lived.

_Forgive me, Viserys. My boy, my beloved. I do not love you any less than your brothers and sisters._

But she had to choose the living over the dead. She _must_ , no matter how much her heart is screaming with pain.


	7. Chapter 7

>   _When Lord Daemon Velaryon, the admiral of the king’s fleets, turned against Maegor as well, many of the great houses joined with him. Maegor’s tyrannical reign could no longer be borne, and the realm rose up to end it. Unifying them all was the claim put forward by the young Prince Jaehaerys—Aenys and Alyssa’s only remaining son, now all of fourteen years of age—and supported by the Lord of Storm’s End whom Jaehaerys had named as Protector of the Realm and Hand of the King. (The World of Ice and Fire)_

“The Dowager Queen has been in secret negotiation with the admiral of the king's fleets,” Robar began.

“My brother is now prepared to turn against Maegor,” Alyssa continued. “When we strike King's Landing, the royal fleet will be at our disposal.”

“And what is the price for Lord Velaryon's support?” asked one of Robar's lords bannermen. “Must Prince Jaehaerys promise to make him Regent?”

“ _King_ Jaehaerys, my lord,” Alyssa corrected, softly but determinedly.

“I dearly hope that King Jaehaerys will not forget which great lord and which region of the realm it was that first proclaimed its support for him. The king's own Velaryon uncle took his time to do the same.”

“Lord Caron, now is not the time to haggle over the price of fish,” Robar snapped impatiently. “All our efforts should be concentrated on removing that cruel tyrant from the throne.”

Alyssa's response was far more circumspect. “My lords, as you well know, the king has already named Lord Baratheon as Protector of the Realm and Hand of the King, in recognition of his support and the support of the entire stormlands. The question of Regent is one best left to a later time, when victory is in hand. Of course, the king would take the suggestions of his loyal lords into consideration.”

“My _loyal_ lord bannerman,” Robar said with frustration, after Lord Caron and the rest of the stormlords had departed. “Lord Caron's was the loudest voice questioning my decision to openly proclaim my support for Jaehaerys. He delivered long soliloquies about what my venerated lord father would have done, and lectured me about the impetuosity and recklessness of young men. And now he -”

Alyssa took his hand. “And now he has come around and is pledging men and arms to fight against Maegor. The support of the Marcher lords are vital to our cause, and House Caron is the oldest of the Marcher houses,” she reminded him.

“Diplomacy is not a game I am suited for,” Robar said ruefully. “Give me a battle to fight, or a realm to protect from its foes.”

“The next time we meet with these lords, Jaehaerys should be present,” Alyssa decided. “They must see him as a capable king, one fully able of ruling on his own once he comes of age in two years.”

“In the meantime, there is only one person capable and deserving enough to be his Regent,” Robar said, letting his hand linger in Alyssa's grasp.


	8. Chapter 8

“Your mother was given a dragon's egg in her cradle, but it never hatched,” the queen said.

Alyssa nodded, courteously. “Yes, Your Grace. She says it is the greatest sorrow of her life.”

“Cousin Vaella would have been a fierce and fearsome dragonrider.”

“Like you are, Your Grace,” Alyssa said, with a smile.

The compliment seemed to displease the queen. “They have trained you to be queen in the mould of my sister, I see. All sweet words and pleasant courtesies. But my sister's sweetness was backed by a will as strong as iron. You, on the other hand ...”

Alyssa tried not to flinch, under the queen's intense scrutiny. “I … I am not a dragonrider like the late Queen Rhaenys was, but -”

“Rhaenys' strength and determination did not derive from being a dragonrider,” the queen snapped.

“Neither does mine,” Alyssa replied, calmly, the tone of her voice belying her extreme nervousness.

The queen looked amused. “A girl of five-and-ten, and she _dares_ to speak of strength and determination. Her _untested_ strength and determination.”

“I am a girl no longer, Your Grace. I am a woman wed.”

“A woman wed to a weak boy, who will grow to be a weak man and a weak king.”

“Aenys -”

“Is not a boy. He is a man wed. Yes, yes, you need not remind me of that. Wed … and bedded, I presume?”

Alyssa blushed. She looked away to hide the tell-tale sign on her face. The queen did not release Alyssa from her gaze. Finally, Alyssa gathered enough courage to meet the queen's eyes and to say, “You inspected the sheets yourself the morning after our first night, Your Grace. You _must_ know that our marriage was duly consummated.”

The queen laughed, the sound a harsh surprise, and yet not completely unpleasing to the ear. “Well, well. The girl does not completely lack a spine after all.” Then, after a pause, the queen added, “What a pity. You would have made a better bride for my son. You are wasted on Aenys.”

“Prince Maegor? He is only ten.”

“He will not be ten forever.”


	9. Chapter 9

> _Aenys was a fine singer himself, as it happened, with a strong, sweet voice. (The Sons of the Dragon)_
> 
> _Like his father, Aenys Targaryen, the First of His Name, was given over to the flames in the yard at Dragonstone. His funeral was attended by his sons Viserys and Jaehaerys, twelve and seven years of age respectively, and his daughter Alysanne, five. Queen Alyssa sang a dirge for him. (The Sons of the Dragon)_

He sang to her, on their wedding night. After they were delivered to the bridal chamber, disrobed, and finally left on their own to consummate the marriage, he ran his fingers down one side of her face, slowly and gently, as if trying to memorize every bone and every contour. He hummed, a sweet-sounding melody that eased her nervousness to some degree. Her hand grazed his lips, willing him to continue. He misunderstood, ceased the humming and said, looking rueful and embarrassed, “Forgive me, my lady. I thought it might please you. And … and help ease us into … into … what we must do.”

“It _does_ please me,” she persuaded him to continue.

The humming transitioned into a song. The words were of lovers meeting, parting, and then meeting again, a requiem for endless love that concluded with, _Even the Stranger could not part us, with his cold, cold hands._

Alyssa shuddered. She had loved the song, before that end.

“You do not believe in another life, Alyssa?” Aenys asked.

“I believe in this one. And only this one,” she replied.

“Mother?”

Her son Jaehaerys was staring at her, looking lost and bewildered. She squeezed his hand to reassure him, before her fingers started digging into her own palm as she willed herself to hold it together.

The flame danced and roared. Alysanne's hold on her mother's hand tightened. Her eyes remained wide open, this little girl of five, despite Alyssa's earlier attempt to shield her from the sight of her father's body consigned to the flame.

Jaehaerys closed his eyes as the flame grew fiercer, prompting his older brother Viserys to whisper, “You must watch, or they will think that you are afraid. We must not show them fear. We are the king's brother, and we must show courage in his place because he cannot be here for Father's funeral.”

“I'm not afraid,” Jaehaerys whispered back, more to his mother than to his brother. “I want to remember Father as he was, not as … as this.”

As this collection of bones and ashes, thought Alyssa. The Stranger's cold, cold hands had come for her husband, and they were parted after all. Parted for the last time. There was to be no meeting in another life; of this she was certain, if she was certain of anything at all these days.

A face was conspicuously missing among the gathering mourners. The Dowager Queen was nowhere to be seen. Dowager Queen Visenya, to be precise, for there were now two Dowager Queens in the realm. _She_ was a Dowager Queen herself; the realization struck Alyssa with the blunt force of a cudgel hitting her on the head. Dowager Queen Alyssa. The widowed Alyssa.

Her tears fell and she let them. Tears were considered acceptable, even required, for a widow. Her scream – loud and primal and full of fury – she buried deep inside her, for _that_ was not considered acceptable in polite company, even during a funeral.

“She's gone, Mother, like you suspected. Her dragon is gone as well,” Viserys had whispered in her ear before the funeral began. Visenya had gone to fetch her son from across the narrow sea, Alyssa knew this in her bones. Her exiled son Maegor. He would return atop Balerion, and together with his mother atop Vhagar, they would bring fire and blood to the realm to steal Aegon's crown. Aegon who was still besieged in Crakehall with his sister-wife Rhaena, unable to be in Dragonstone to attend his father's funeral and to be anointed king immediately following the funeral, as was the custom.

Five against two, Viserys had pointed out, eager for a fight. “We have five dragons, and they only have two, Mother.” But the two on the other side were proven warriors in battle, while the five on their side were not yet ready for battle. Only Aegon and Rhaena had truly flown with their dragons across the realm, but even _they_ had only done this during times of peace. Viserys had only ever mounted his dragon to travel a short distance; the furthest he had gone was from Dragonstone to his Velaryon grandfather's nearby seat at Driftmark. Jaehaerys and Alysanne had never flown at all.

Discreetly, Alyssa had arranged for a ship to take her and her children to Driftmark, to her father's seat. She needed time, time and safety to gather her forces and to plan their next move.

Viserys had questioned that arrangement. “Why must we flee, Mother? We should stand firm, stand our ground and defend my brother's crown. Dragonstone is where we must be, until Aegon could make his way here.”

“We cannot defend him or his crown if we are dead,” Alyssa pointed out.

“Perhaps they will not come to Dragonstone. Perhaps Queen Visenya and Uncle Maegor will fly directly to King's Landing,” Viserys speculated.

She could not count on that. And she was not certain she could count on the loyalty of the lords and knights assembled at her husband's funeral either.

The dirge Alyssa sang was in part meant to honor her husband, to honor his love of music and his own gift as a singer – _her_ last gift to him, and her sincere lamentation at their parting, this final parting – but she also sang it with another purpose in mind. As she sang of the death of a king and the grief of a sorrowful realm, of mourning children bereft of their father's protection, looking to the gallant lords and knights of the kingdom to defend them and all their rights, her eyes sought out the faces of the lords and knights assembled in Dragonstone.

_Knights brave and true, lords gallant and courageous_

_The realm cries out for them, as it cries for the departed king_

Her scrutiny was not without design. The stony expression on their faces, and the fact that far too many of them tried to avert her gaze altogether, strengthened Alyssa's conviction that seeking sanctuary in Driftmark was her only choice. “We are not abandoning your brother's cause,” she insisted to Viserys, Jaehaerys and Alysanne. “We are making sure that we still live to fight it.”


	10. Chapter 10

> _Their mother, the Dowager Queen Alyssa, arrived a fortnight later, riding beside the Lord of Storm's End at the head of a great host, their banners streaming. (The Sons of the Dragon)_

They rode side by side entering King's Landing, the Queen Regent and the Protector of the Realm, on a pair of white mares as alike as two peas in a pod.

“Would you rather not be riding into the city on your great black destrier, Lord Robar?” she had asked him, as they were preparing to depart Storm's End.

“We are not going into the city to make war, Your Grace. My destrier is trained to kick and bite, and is meant to be a weapon as valuable as a sword in battle. I would not squander a warhorse for other purposes. The time may come, and it may come soon enough, for the Protector of the Realm to ride into battle to protect the king and his realm. I will have a greater need of my destrier then.”

“Indeed, my lord. I thank you on my son's behalf, for your caution and sound judgment,” Alyssa said. “Though,” she added, “some men would not take too kindly to riding what they think of as a lady's mount. They see it as  _beneath_  them.”

Robar smiled. “Some men put too much stock in  _displaying_  their manhood, instead of actually  _being_  a man.”

“And I suppose a man secure in his own manhood would have no need of, and no interest in, these mere trifle displays?”

“Why flash your sword when you already know how sharp it is? A man should only unsheathe his blade when he is prepared to use it.”

“ _Well_. You certainly do not suffer from lack of confidence, Lord Robar.”

His eyes met hers. “Would you expect any less, Your Grace, from the man who has been entrusted with your … trust?”

Alyssa raised her eyebrows. “Entrusted with my trust? What a redundant way of putting it.”

“I was about to say something  _quite_  different, but I fear that it may be presumptuous of me to speak of it.”

“Oh come now, my lord. I have never taken you for a shy, retiring man who hesitates to speak his mind. If I  _do_  think it presumptuous of you, then  _I_  will not hesitate to speak  _my_  mind and tell you so, to your face.”

“I was about to say,  _'Would you expect any less, my queen, from the man who has been entrusted with your heart?'”_

“Ah.”

“And do you think it presumptuous of me, to speak of it in that manner?”

“No, not at all,” Alyssa replied. “Not in the least.”


	11. Chapter 11

“They said Maegor was never the same, after the death of his mother.”

Alyssa turned at the sound of Robar's voice, interrupting her contemplation of the Iron Throne. The  _empty_  throne.

“She was his greatest champion,” Alyssa replied. “How is Jaehaerys?” asked Jaehaerys' mother,  _his_  greatest champion.

“Safely installed in the king's bedchamber, with only the most trusted of your men as his guards, as you commanded,” Robar reassured her.

“I had to see it for myself. Where he died.” Where the torturer and murderer of her son Viserys and the captor and rapist of her daughter Rhaena died. “He _cheated_  me.”

“By dying of his own hands?”

Alyssa nodded. “I have dreamed of it often. My hands around his neck, strangling the  _life_ out of him. My knife upon his throat, opening him up from ear to ear. I knew I must not do it, of course, even if I had the chance. Maegor must die in a field of battle, or be sentenced to death in a legitimate trial, or Jaehaerys' reign will begin with a taint that could never be washed away. A mother's  _fury_  … a mother's  _vengeance_  … I knew I must set it aside. But I had hoped, at least, that he would be forced to account for himself, for his sins and his crimes, in front of the whole realm. I had hoped at least that my own eyes and ears would be witnesses to him confessing his crimes, confessing what he did to my children. Instead, he had the chance to choose his own ending, without having to answer to anyone other than himself.”

“There is only dishonor and cowardice in the manner of death he chose. And he will be remembered as the cruel tyrant that he was, nothing more. We will make certain of that.”

“Will that bring my Viserys back? Or my Aegon? Will that cure Rhaena of her nightmares?”

“No. But -”

“But it must be done nonetheless. For the sake of Jaehaerys' reign. I know.”

Robar nodded. “You told me once that what kept you going through all the loss, grief and despair was the need to take the next step, and the next, and all the ones after that. That journey has not ended. The road ahead is full of treacherous challenges.” He paused, offering his hand to her. “But you need not travel that road alone, Your Grace. There is strength in -”

“In  _you_?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “Must I put my faith in that, Lord Robar, rather than in myself?”

“In two. There is strength in two. In two people united by a common purpose, joined by a shared destiny.”


	12. Chapter 12

 

> _Maegor Targaryen and Tyanna of the Tower were wed atop the Hill of Rhaenys, amidst the ashes and bones of the Warrior’s Sons who had died there. […] The widowed queen [Alyssa Velaryon] was even compelled to join the other ladies of the court in disrobing His Grace and escorting him to the nuptial chamber to consummate his marriage, a bedding ceremony presided over by the king’s second wife, Alys Harroway. (The Sons of the Dragon)_

Alyssa spent most of the bedding ceremony wondering about what Alys Harroway was thinking and feeling regarding her husband’s new marriage, in order to escape her own thoughts and feelings, and to suppress the overwhelming wish to grab Maegor’s exposed manhood and to crush it with all her might. Her three youngest children Viserys, Jaehaerys and Alysanne were being “entertained” by the Dowager Queen Visenya in her solar, to ensure Alyssa’s good conduct and compliance during the ceremony, during this bitter humiliation Maegor had devised for her. And so that overwhelming wish must remain unfulfilled, for now, at least.

“Here, Your Grace, hold this side of the robe, like this,” Alys instructed Alyssa. She was courteous enough to Alyssa, in her own way, but she was not in any way deferential. After all,  _she_  was the queen now, and Alyssa was merely another dowager queen, and one whose loyalty to Maegor was very doubtful, to say the least.

Not  _the_  queen, Alyssa amended, but  _one_ of the queens. From this day forward, Alys Harroway would be one of three. The first queen she could do very little about, for Maegor had been wed to Ceryse Hightower first, but this new queen, this Tyanna of the Tower, why would Alys consent to her husband taking yet another wife?

In her head, Alyssa laughed bitterly at her own momentary foolishness.  _Consent_. As if Alys’ consent would have mattered in the least to Maegor. Ceryse’s consent certainly did not matter to him when he decided to take a second wife. Why would it be any different when he decided to take a third wife?  

And yet, Alyssa observed, the smile had not wavered from Alys Harroway’s lips throughout the wedding ceremony, and now throughout the bedding ceremony as well. She had kissed the bride on both cheeks and the groom on his lips after they were pronounced as husband and wife by the shifty-looking septon, her face radiating only joy and delight. She had not shown even the  _slightest_  hint of anger, or reluctance, or even hesitation.

But then again, Alyssa reflected,  _smiling_  was no true indication of anything. She herself had plastered a smile on her face as her lips mouthed the words doing homage to Maegor as king, and as she stood atop the hill named in honor of her dead husband’s mother to watch Maegor take a third wife. She had  _smiled_ and  _smiled_  and  _kept_  smiling until her mouth and the muscles of her cheeks  _ached_  from it, even though smiling was the  _last_  thing in the world she wanted to do, even though a part of her  _despised_  herself for smiling at all. She had smiled, because the thought of her children’s safety was foremost in her mind. If she had to smile, if she had to pretend, if she had to make a great show of compliance so they could  _live_ , so they could be  _safe,_  while Maegor was still sitting on the throne, then so be it. There was time enough for pride later, after they had succeeded in deposing him from that position.

Was it all for show for Alys Harroway too, Alyssa wondered? Was  _she_  compelled to comply with Maegor’s wishes by his threat to the safety of the people she loved? If that were the case, then Alys Harroway deserved compassion rather than scorn. If that were the case, it would also be in Alys’ own interest for Maegor to be defeated, to be brought down from his current perch. If that were the case, then perhaps she could be convinced to join forces with Alyssa, in secret. Having a secret ally this close to Maegor would be invaluable to Alyssa’s cause.

On the other hand, if Alys Harroway was  _not_ merely making a show of compliance to protect the people she loved, if she was in fact sincere and in earnest about supporting her husband’s cause, or if she was supporting his cause to gain some advantages for herself and her kin, then breathing even a single word of this plan to Alys’ ear would be a fatal mistake. But was there perhaps a way to drop a subtle hint to Alys Harroway to determine her true allegiance, a hint that was subtle enough that it could not be used to expose Alyssa or to accuse her of planning treason?

The risk was too great to take, Alyssa decided, after the door to the nuptial bedchamber was closed, and she saw that Alys Harroway had remained on the other side of that door, alongside the bride and the groom. The possible benefit, as great as it seemed, did not outweigh the risk.


End file.
